Portrait of the inhumans

They look normal

They don’t stand out

A portrait with my phone

Shows one-dimensional faces

Like waves of film

Unreal and uniform

Casting shadows long

Over crowds on cave walls

A long face but no substance

A flat face of no proportion

A hissing face with a hissing voice

But the face never changes

And its the same voice, always

Spoken in loops and

Echoes from a gap

Where once a person was

With plate faces

They hive together

They send themselves

Carbon over each other

And dissolve together

Like smoke from a factory,

Mocking love and light, and growth,

Throw themselves up on

Leak their shit into the ocean,

A pest, but not native

All they exist on in time, now, for their time has come,

Is my mobile

The forgotten in Truth

My portrait has captured

Their one dimensional

Let’s put it nicely:

Lack of old fashioned charm